


That Time in Ellander

by Al_Blue



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: M/M, Post-Game(s), Spoilers, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 12:18:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13681533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Al_Blue/pseuds/Al_Blue
Summary: Takes place some time after Witcher 3, vague spoilers for one of the potential game endings.





	That Time in Ellander

**Author's Note:**

> Written in the fashion of the frame story in the book The Last Wish of the Witcher series. 
> 
> Not beta read, all mistakes are mine.

He is in the antechamber in Vizima. The hot herb bath irritated his most recent gashes and scrapes satisfyingly.

"Be still." A deep voice instructed as the knife on the witcher's throat paused.

Geralt opens his eyes in surprise and is greeted with the Emperor's face, brows stiff in concentration. "Wha - "

"Be still, witcher." Emhyr pauses again to frown at Geralt before returning to his work. A large hand dripping with bath water tilts Geralt's head as the blade in the other pulls a steady stroke up.

All of Geralt's hairs stand to attention, and he stays very still despite the shave made the skin on his neck burn anew.

The antechamber is quiet and dimly-lit. Mererid or another chamberlain hovers near the doorway as the Emperor firmly and methodically shaves the witcher. He keeps his hand on Geralt's head, pausing after every stroke to rinse his blade. When he does, it gleams brilliantly and tauntingly in the basin.

If Dandelion was here, Geralt thinks, his eyes would surely bug out of their sockets.

A final swipe followed by a warm towel, the Emperor takes his hands off of the witcher, and turns to rinse the blade a last time.

Geralt takes a breath in and watches as Emhyr dries the blade on a towel and places both down next to the basin. Then, before Geralt can form a word, Emhyr begins to unbutton his coat.

Many other words die on his lips as Emhyr stripes down completely, as efficiently as he had shaved Geralt .

Before he can avert his eyes for propriety's sake, the Emperor is nude and is placing his naked hand on Geralt's shoulder. Geralt scoots forward in the bath at the wordless commend, and watches, wide-eyed, as the naked Emperor steps in the bathtub, and moves to sit behind him.

"Relax, witcher." his voice, low, reverberates in the room.

Panicked, the witcher glares in the chamberlain's direction, desperate to catch his eye for any explanation. But the chamberlain does not take notice of him, and continues to putter about at the other end of the room.

The hand that held onto his head earlier caresses around Geralt's middle, and pulls him back against a wet and solid chest. 

Then, and then, it was all too easy to drop back his head, and allow the other lover's hand to caress and rub his neck, shoulders, and chest, moving lower with every stroke.

The witcher shifts in the warm embrace and gasps softly at the not quite sexual touches.

It is not often that he takes a male lover, but the smooth masculine musk and a firm hand can always render him pliant, and aroused in the hazy way that he usually denies himself with a female lover.

The hand on him moves yet lower to below his waist.

"Emhyr." The witcher moans, quietly begging for more.

"Witcher," Emhyr says, voice echoing, "I understand titles of nobility have always confounded you, but a sense of propriety must be maintained in company. I will be addressed as Your Majesty or Emperor Emeritus. Anything else would be treasonous."

A quiet chuckle can be heard from the chamberlain's vicinity.

"He is delirious still, Your Majesty." Says the chuckling voice.

Nenneke?

With difficulty, the witcher opens his eyes and looks around. The room is still dim, but where he thought Emhyr's chamberlain had been stands the Archpriestess of the Temple of Melitele.

The room is not the antechamber of the palace at Vizima, but an old room Geralt stayed in many times over the decades, waiting for his wounds to heal, and listening to Nenneke nag.

He's in Ellander. Again.

In contrast to the normality of room at the temple, and even after the witcher blinked multiple times and superstitiously pinched himself, Emhyr var Emreis is in fact in the room with him. Sitting on a wooden chair beside Geralt's tub, fully dressed and holding a sizable sponge in his right hand.

"It would seem he's awake now, priestess." The Emperor says, putting down the sponge. His long black coat dabbled with damp water patches.

"I will go and fetch his medicine then, Your Majesty." Nenneke curtsies. Nodding at Geralt when she catches his eyes, before opening the door behind her, and leaving him alone in the room with Emhyr.

"Wha-"

"My daughter, the Empress," Emhyr interrupts, "impressed upon me that your last contract had left you near death. According to her, to ease her mind and therefore for the good of the empire, I should look in on you, as Ellander is but a short ride from Vizima compare to a trip from the City."

"Ciri." A joy and warmth blooms within Geralt at the mention of the girl he raised, and he momentarily forgets the oddness of the situation, "How is she?"

"She is well."

"Sent you to bathe a lowly witcher then did she," Geralt quips, "Your Majesty."

"Insolent as always I see." Emhyr trails his eyes down and up again over the wet and naked body in the bathtub, not concealing his gaze from Geralt. "However, the task has not been...without its amusements."

Hearing Emhyr's thick voice, Geralt's earlier dream forced itself back to his mind. Eager to cover himself up, Geralt spots a bath towel behind the tub and stands to reach for it.

"Ow!" 

His movement cut short as a pulsating pain radiated from his neck to his finger tips.

Emhyr stands at the witcher's cry and reaches out a hand to steady him before he can crash down into the bath water.

The touch sends an electrifying spark down Geralt's skin, sensitive from the hot bath. Geralt snaps up his eyes to look at the man who has been in his dreams.

Keeping his hand on the witcher, Emhyr catches his gaze and takes a step closer. 

Geralt cannot look away. His mouth is dry, and for the life of him cannot find the sound to speak. The scent of arousal permeates the air, and he can hear Emhyr's heart beating loudly, faster than usual. 

Geralt wonders, insolently, how does one go about propositioning the Emperor Emeritus.


End file.
